


Real World Luxuries

by SpaceAsthmatic



Category: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Angst, Dol Guldur, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Falling In Love, Fluff and Angst, Forbidden Love, Love Confessions, Mirkwood, POV Legolas Greenleaf, Pre-Lord of The Rings, Pre-The Hobbit, Protective Legolas Greenleaf
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-31
Updated: 2019-01-31
Packaged: 2019-10-20 02:28:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17613725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpaceAsthmatic/pseuds/SpaceAsthmatic
Summary: Legolas disobeys his father and goes to Dul Guldur to learn of what darkness has come to reside there. Finally and regretfully, the woodland realm comes to understand how much trouble they're in."He had not kissed her at the yule celebration. That was the real world, and such things could only cause him pain in the real world. But this was not the real world."





	Real World Luxuries

 

 

A blond head rested into trembling hands. Hair stuck in every direction, torn free of its braids by frustrated hands running through them. His clothes were travel worn and stained, with mud and orc blood. He neglected the thought of changing into fresh clothes long ago. His thoughts were on a far more pressing matter than dirty clothes. 

 

 

His eyes were scrunched closed as he played the events over and over in his head, unable to stop. 

 

 

They had fought their way deeper and deeper towards Dol Guldur. Three were too injured to make it all the ways, and had to turn back home.

 

 

But not her. Thank the Valar, not her.

 

 

There was a reason his father had denied his request repeatedly whenever he asked to go. It was dangerous, far more dangerous than the woodland king had the heart to allow. There was a reason that he did not ask his father for permission this time. 

 

 

The King would be furious when he heard what his son and his patrol had done. 

 

 

But he needed to know what darkness lurked within the crumbling walls. Discussion and thought could only get one so far, he needed proof. He needed to know once and for all if it was the darkness they all feared. 

 

 

His father most of all. 

 

 

The Elvenking had put great effort to distance himself and his people from the rest of the world. Weary of all they had to offer. They meddled, poked and prodded at the troubles of the world until it burst. If there were no trouble in the world, they poked and prodded at one another. He had seen enough careless bloodshed. Yet, the darkness still landed on his doorstep. 

 

 

It was a true injustice. 

 

 

The air felt heavy as they approached, like they were standing on the bottom of a deep lake. A deep and unshakeable feeling of wrongness rattled around their bodies and stole their breath.  The sounds of clumsy orcs and clicking spiders could still be heard farther ahead, but around them there was silence from the forest. The forest itself had lost all of its voice, and was void of any life except for the elves and the dark ones. 

 

 

The tree’s did not sing to one another, they did not greet their elven visitors, and they did not reach for the sun any longer. He had run his hands over the bark of one tree, but instead of feeling the spark and warmth of a soul he felt cold. Just cold.  

 

 

He did not touch any tree’s after that. 

 

 

The others around him seemed just a deeply shaken as he felt, although he hoped it did not show. He was their captain, and a captain should never show such emotions to those under him. When their wills wavered and terror struck, it was his job to be able to reassure them with a glance. You could not reassure anyone if you looked as shaken as the rest of them.

 

 

He had not asked them to come, he never would have asked this of them. They had volunteered and then insisted on accompanying him. For the truth, and possibly their deaths. 

 

 

When they reached the final ridge, they stood in a cluster together,  watchful and wary of their surroundings. None of them ready for what they might see once they looked over the hill and into the old halls. There would be no forgetting this information. No forgetting what might happen. 

 

 

He had taken a moment to look at his companions, once strangers now family. 

 

 

A hand slipped into his, gripping so tightly it nearly hurt. Yet, warmth sparked in his body again. He looked to his left where she stood solidly beside him. Her green eyes met his blue, and he saw his own fear reflected in her eyes. 

 

 

He had not asked her to come, but was thankful she had. Every obstacle, hurt and accomplishment in his life she had been by his side for. His longest and dearest friend. The love he felt for her nearly burst his heart and failed his words. 

 

 

A love like this was capable of great joy, or unbearable pain. 

 

 

They had approached the top of the ridge as one, forming a creature with far too many legs and arms. Together they gazed upon the fallen city, watching as Orcs, Spiders and Wargs swarmed around the halls and on walls like ants. Terrifying, hateful ants. 

 

 

He could feel a piercing gaze fall upon him, raising every hair on his body with terror. He longed to run away, far away into the tree’s. Where they still sang their songs and recognized their beloved elves, where the air was not heavy with pollution, and the sun could still peak through the leaves. They had captured His attention.  

 

 

Yet he did not leave. Or could not. 

 

 

Somebody fell to their knees, but he did not look to see who it was. Two others were quick to pull him back to his feet, even though their knees probably trembled while they did it. Next to him, she managed to grip his hand just a little bit tighter. 

 

 

He squeezed back just as desperately. 

 

 

All his childhood he head heard tales by those unfortunate enough to be called to the first battle against this dark force. When stories weren't enough, he had found scrolls and books on the time before the battle. He thought it would prepare him for when it was his turn to fight, when the time came. 

 

 

Nothing could have prepared him for this. 

 

 

The air grew heavier around them, pressing down on their shoulders and muffling everything but his own heartbeat in his ears. It felt as if somehow it managed to muffle everything within him, he felt as cold and as empty as the tree he had touched earlier. There was no spark of hopefulness and all happy memories evaporated from his thought, such things could not survive around Him. 

 

 

It had to be Him. 

 

 

They knew the ring had not been destroyed, his father was certain that He would come back for it. The King cursed the race of men and their failures, he cursed the race of elves and their indifference, he cursed the ring and everything to do with it. Sometimes he even cursed the Valar. 

 

 

The world came crashing back around him when she tugged harshly on his arm. The sounds came back in a rush, his ears finally allowing him to hear the sounds of orcs crashing through the tree’s towards them. 

 

 

Another harsh tug, “We have to go.” 

 

 

She was right, they had to go. They had gotten the answer they had come to find, standing there any longer would do them no good. Only harm. As one, the turned to flee back the way they had come. 

 

 

They slipped and slid down the ridge, their movements were still silent, but clumsy with their panic. Covered in mud and leaves they reached the bottom and took off running as fast as their legs could carry them. Behind them, the battle cry of orcs and angry spiders could be heard racing towards them as they ran.     

 

 

Elves are fast, but giant spiders with eight legs are faster. 

 

 

They started dropping from the tree’s around them, pinchers reaching desperately for a taste of their flesh. Blades were brought out of their sheaths, viciously cutting into any spider that got too close. Never before had the elves been so thankful for seemingly endless hours of training they had endured. 

 

 

Rain, shine, or snow they had trained. They had done drills over and over again until they were covered in bruises and their muscles could barely hold them, and then they did some more. They had knocked, aimed and released arrows until their fingertips bled and they could hit the bullseye of any target set before them. They had run until their lungs almost burst and they were sick to their stomachs. The voice of their weapons master had bled into their brains, and even now as they ran through the woods they could hear his voice in their heads telling them to pick up their knees. To look around them more, have keener ears, take less time to aim.     

 

  

 

Even as more spiders intercepted them, and the orcs began frantically shooting arrows, they did not slow their pace. 

 

 

To slow their pace would be to go to Mandos’ halls. Their only chance was if they reached the river before they were overrun, where they had stashed large pieces of bark to serve as rafts earlier. The current was fierce and strong enough to swiftly whisk them away. 

 

 

When they could they dover over or under the spiders, and dodged through tree’s and weaved back and forth away from them. The spiders rained down, and the Elves ran.

 

 

Two had fallen on the way back, one with an arrow sticking from their back, the other twitching frantically as spider venom flowed through his veins.

 

 

Not her. Thank the Valar not her.  

 

 

The others had gone back for them. They shouldn't have, but they did. All the others had fought the creatures back, while two went to retrieve the fallen. Praying for life. 

 

 

They should not have been able to make it to the rafts, all the logic suggested otherwise. There were too many spiders, too many orcs, too much hatred for this small but stubborn band of elves. They should have fallen, they should have died far away from their homes at the mercy of Him and those that followed him. 

 

 

But they made it. She made it, thank the Valar she made it. 

 

 

They piled onto their five makeshift rafts, quickly and with alarming speed. Before the spiders could all reach the shore of the river, they had cut the ropes and rushed away. The creatures rushed after them, but the river too fast and the terrain too rough. Using the long branches they had left with the rafts the elves effectively weaved around the rapids and rocks. This was their forest, even the darkness could not keep the from knowing every inch of it. 

 

 

The king had been furious when they finally returned, but even he could not keep his ire when they told him the news. He could almost watch every memory the king had of the Last Alliance in his eyes, before he closed them in silent defeat. 

 

 

Frustrated hands raked through his hair once more, pulling more strands from the braids. 

 

 

What would they do? What could they do? 

 

 

This was their home, their beloved forest. It was apart of every soul that lived within it and the only place on Arda they could ever truly belong. Where else could they go, if not here.

 

 

Even if they had someplace else to go, were they supposed to abandon this evil to grow as it wished? Give it room and privacy to entrench its evil so deeply into the earth it could never be removed? The world did not need another Mordor, if two places such as that existed they would never stand a chance to destroy Him when the time came. 

 

 

The darkness He spread seemed so strong, and their light so weak. How could they possible hope to hold back His permanent night at bay? Who would they be if they did not try?

 

 

But these were his people, his friends, his family. How many of the world be left, at the end of it all. If any of them. Was he destined to lose his father the same way his father had lost his own? 

 

 

Would he lose her as well? He hoped the Valar would not take her from him.

 

 

He still saw the effects of his mother's death had on his father. The pain he still felt, the loneliness he endured. Even at times when his father seemed at his happiest, one could still always see his silent ache. 

 

 

World it hurt any less for him if he were to lose her? Would it hurt less at her end if he had been able to hold her close, and feel her lips on his own before she left? Or was it better to keep this semblance of distance they kept? Stubbornly refusing to acknowledge their feelings, the private looks and smiles, the comfort they could give one another. 

 

 

There was a soft knock on his door, but he neglected to answer it. He kept his head slumped defeatedly in his hands. There was nobody on Arda that he wished to speak to right now, that meant dealing with the world. He was not sure he was able to deal with the world yet. 

 

 

The door opened regardless of his silence. His head snapped up, face full of anger and mouth ready to send whoever it was away with harsh words. His anger was snuffed out like a candle, and words evaporated like steam. 

 

 

There she stood. 

 

 

Unlike him she had changed into new clothes, and washed the day from her hair. It hung down nearly to her waist, still too damp to form the small curls it usually displayed. Her feet were still bare, and he could see some of the scratches she had gotten on her arms and legs today. 

 

 

Her face was soft with sadness and concern. She drifted over to him, sitting on the bed next to him and leaned her head onto his shoulder. He briefly thought to pull away to keep any of the filth that clung to him off of her, but he simply rested his head on top of hers instead and warped an arm around her.   

 

 

“We’re in trouble.” It was barely a whisper, but he had heard her words all the same. 

 

 

He nodded his head solemnly and answered just as quietly, “Yes.” 

 

 

They sat on the bed together in silence, both replaying what had happened, what they had seen. The anger and emptiness they had felt standing on that ridge. They both contemplated their options and what they should do. 

 

 

Eventually she pulled away from him and stood. He tried to ignore how cold he now felt without her next to him, even if it was a warm summer night. She went to his wardrobe and pulled out a fresh set of clothes for him, as well as a hair brush. She tossed him the clothes and then turned her back, waiting expectantly for him to get changed. 

 

 

Reluctantly he rose from his perch on the side of the bed, shedding his dirty clothes and tossing them into a basket in the corner. Usually, he would bathe before putting on a fresh set of clothes, but he did not have the energy for that right now. It would have to wait until morning. 

 

 

He pulled the new clothes on, and sat back down on the bed. When all of his rustling stopped she turned back around, she motioned with her finger for him to turn around. And so he did, staring at the wall that faced his bed with his back now to her. 

 

 

Delicately she began to undo his braids, tugging gently but sternly on the knots he had formed in them. Once they were all out, she began to gently brush it out. Dipping the brush in a basin of warmed water Galion had left him hours before to help get everything out of his strands. 

 

 

He tried not to think about how her fingers felt in his hair, or how much her quiet humming calmed his racing heart. He tried not to think about the darkness that was encroaching on his home, or about the last yule celebration when he had come so close to kissing her. 

 

 

He tried not to think about it, but he could still see the spiders crawling over the walls of Dul Guldur. He could still hear the scream of the elf who had been bitten by the spider, still see his father's eyes when he told him what they had seen. He could still feel as he felt the last funeral they had, could still hear the fallen one’s mother crying for her child. 

 

 

She had held his hand then too. 

 

 

He found the darkness bleeding into his thoughts was easy to drown out with her light. It was easy to temporarily forget about the rest of the world when she was around, they could live in their own private one for a while. In a world where there was no war, there was no overhanging threat of death and heartbreak, where he was not a Prince and could run away from it all. Run away with her. Where he could tell her how he felt, and she could tell him. 

 

 

But he was not ready for the real world yet, and was happily living in their private one. This private world they had full of meaningful looks, clasped hands, and bright eyes. Eyes only for one another. Eyes that did not have to look upon evil things, and ears that did not have to hear it. Mouths that did not have to shout commands, but could whisper words.

 

 

And so in their private world, he whispered. “I love you.”   

 

 

The brush stilled in his hair where it was working out the last tangle, and was set lightly on the bed to his left. “

 

 

“I know.” She whispered back.

 

 

He swiveled back around on the bed, turning to face her once more. He thought he ought to be embarrassed or ashamed of his words. But he had long since stopped feeling such things around her.  She had seen and knew every side to him, and could probably read him better than one could read a book. Of course she knew he had loved her. 

 

 

“I love you too.” 

 

 

He swallowed hard, not knowing if it was better to say it out loud or if they should have kept such things unspoken. But he had known how she felt, just as she had known what he had felt. Did words really make that much of a difference? 

 

 

“I know.” 

 

 

But this was their private world still, this was not the real world. Not right now. Right now, they did not have to think about such things. They did not need to think about the peril they consistently lived in, they didn't have to talk about how many time they had already nearly lost on another. They did not have to wonder at the pain they would feel when Mandos finally claimed one of them, and left the other. 

 

 

Those were problems for the real world. 

 

 

He stood suddenly, and she did not back away from the spot she had been standing in to brush his hair. The pair were nearly touching, but were not. He swallowed hard again, would it be better to just wish her goodnight and pretend none of this had happened?  

 

 

But she was standing so close to him, just as they had been on that yule celebration. Her eyes stared into his with such warmth and love and trust. His arms snaked around her waist and pulled her close to him, like he had almost done at the yule celebration. Her arms wrapped around his chest as she leaned into him.

 

 

He had not kissed her at the yule celebration. That was the real world, and such things could only cause him pain in the real world. But this was not the real world. 

 

 

He leaned forward and kissed her soundly on the lips. He pulled back after, wanting to kiss her again but wary of her reaction. He did not have to be wary for very long, her right arm moved form around his chest to behind his head and pulled im back down for a longer and deeper kiss. 

 

 

It simultaneously felt exactly as he expected and not like it at all. Warmth burst into his soul from her lips and rang through his body, he was filled with such a feeling of ‘rightness’ that it briefly chased the feelings the ridge top edged into his skin. 

 

 

She pulled back from him, and he pulled her against his chest. Holding her there strongly and securely, knowing she could hear his heart race with adrenaline but not caring.

 

 

He kissed the top of her head, “We’re in trouble.” 

 

 

She nodded against his chest, holding him as tightly as he held her, “Yes.”  

 

 

This could never happen in the real world, he knew. The pain world be too great, and every effort ounce of energy had to be directed at the darkness now. They could not afford such luxuries as this, could not afford a love that could shatter them. 

 

 

After she left his room tonight this time would become another secret moment their own world held, nestling ‘I love you’ between stolen glances and held hands. 

 

 

“What are we going to do?” The question felt right to ask, they had many choices to make. 

 

 

“We fight.” 

 

 

The answer was simply, easy. But held an unspoken promise.They would fight, they would fight with everything they had until there was nothing less to give. And then give more. They world drive the darkness from the world, try and keep it from spreading until the could destroy it for good. They would give up their love, burry it the best they knew how. Lock away their secret world. 

 

 

Until the real world was safer for such luxuries. 

 

 

But they were not in the real world, not yet. He leaned down and kissed her again, channeling every surprised feeling and heart flutter she had ever given him. Right now he could let himself love her, just for a few more minutes. 

 

 

And then they would go back to the real world. And they would fight

 

 


End file.
